


Ice Maiden

by solrosan



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Family History, Friendship, Gen, Grave Robbers, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/pseuds/solrosan
Summary: A documentary about a 2500 year old mummified woman from the Eurasian Steppe awakes a memory (and a rage) in Andy.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Booker | Sebastien le Livre
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	Ice Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> [I saw this post about the Pazyryk Ice Maiden](https://taibhsearachd.tumblr.com/post/187090074952/2300-years-old-scythian-womans-boot-preserved-in) and I couldn't get the thought of Andy having known her out of my head.

They are in Goussainville. Booker is antsy as he always is when they are in France, but they needed a break after having died one too many times by the hands of Boko Haram, and this place is as good as any. 

It’s actually better than most of them -- it’s one of Andy’s and Joe’s favourite safe houses. It’s warm, it’s dry, and it has both indoor plumbing and electricity, which isn’t true for a lot of their squats. Joe even changed their old TV for a flat one last time they stayed here. Not that Andy understands the point of it, but anything that can make Nicky and Booker more inclined to stay here another night is good.

Earlier in the day, Andy lost a bet to… well, all of them, having failed to figure out how to turn her app notifications off on her phone, and is therefore on cleaning duty after dinner while the men amuse themselves with that new monstrosity of modern technology. They have the volume turned up to hear over the more than occasional aeroplane, which means that even with the water running, Andy hears and recognises the intro to the history channel. 

“Turn that shit off,” she yells without looking in their direction. “You know you’re just going to get annoyed.”

She’s right. The history channel always annoys them, no matter which one. If it's not inaccurate retelling of events -- most of the time they really can't tell, because they haven't been everywhere all the time, but that doesn't stop them from having Strong Opinions -- then there are always costume choices in re-enactments to whine about. Nicky is the one who most often takes personal offence, but all of them are pretty good at cursing at historians as if they were football referees. Andy included.

“It’s about the Scythians and burial rites,” Nicky calls back.

Andy snorts. “Then _definitely_ turn it off.”

They don’t, and against her better judgement, Andy turns to watch as she dries the plates. The documentary is about someone they call the Altai Princess, or the Siberian Ice Maiden, a Scytho-Siberian woman who lived on the Eurasian Steppe about 2500 years ago and whose tomb they had excavated about 20 years ago. Recent studies claim she might have died of breast cancer or a fall from a horse -- Booker snorts at the wide range of ideas -- and that she had suffered from chronic pain. Her arm is covered with well preserved tattoos and when the camera moves over them Andy gasps. The plate slips out of her hands and breaks against the floor. 

The three men are out of their chairs in a heartbeat. None of them gets a weapon out before they realise there is no immediate threat. 

“Clumsy,” mutters Andy and gets down to pick up the shards. The men exchange looks at that ridiculous lie before Nicky comes to help her and Joe goes to fetch a broom. Booker mutes the TV. 

Andy drops the shards into the bin and gets up. She throws the towel on the counter and moves out of the way to let Joe brush up the rest.

“Boss…” says Joe quietly, reaching for her as she passes, but she makes sure to stay out of reach. She takes the remote from Booker and turns the sound back on. 

Nicky and Joe finish cleaning up as Booker silently watches the documentary with Andy. Or watches _Andy_ , really. After just a few minutes she turns off the TV, half-throwing the remote back to Booker who barely catches it.

“Fucking…” she mutters under her breath, her nails digging into the palms of her hand as she all but vibrates with anger. She gives the three of them one quick look, then she turns and walks out to the church. 

When Booker follows her some five minutes later she’s sitting in one of the pews, staring at the altar. He lingers in the aisles, though blocking her way out by resting his hands on the backrests. 

“You knew her, didn’t you?” 

It’s a statement in the form of a question and it makes Andy acknowledge his presence by turning around. 

“It doesn’t matter, she is still a person.” She shakes her head. “What gave them the right to-- When do you stop being a human to these people?”

Booker shrugs. 

“She is a person. Her name is… It’s… _Fuck!_ ” Andy hits the back of the row in front of her with both hands in frustration when she can’t remember the name. Her voice echoes between the cold stone walls. 

Booker slips into the pew and sits down, still with a fair amount of space between them. Andy closes her eyes and tips her head back, taking a deep breath through her nose. Then another. She opens her eyes again and stares at the ceiling. 

“She is still a person,” she mutters again. After a while, she lifts her head and looks at Booker. “She’s a person, and we mourned her when she died. What gave them the right to take her?”

“Who was she?”

“It. Doesn’t. Matter.” Andy puts emphasis on every word. “We buried her to… to… help her get to the afterlife? Or keep her safe until we could go with her? I don’t remember. I don’t-- I-- We didn’t bury her for _this!_ That much I know.”

There is a long silence. A plane passes over their heads and from the other room they can hear Joe and/or Nicky finishing the dishes. 

“She was a friend,” Andy says quietly, once again looking at the altar. “As far as I had any back then.”

Booker moves a little closer and leans forward to hear her. 

“She was in pain, constantly, they got that right, but she thought my curse was worse.”

“What curse?”

Andy gives him a tired smile. “Our curse, Book.”

“She knew?”

“They all did.” She shrugs. “People were more… open to certain kinds of ideas back then.”

Booker smiles a crooked smile. “When did it change?”

“Different times in different places, but what does it matter now?”

“I don’t know,” says Booker. Then, after a short pause he asks, “Do you want us to go and get her?” 

Andy thinks about, then she shakes her head. “If we start down that road, where will it end?”

“Can’t take more than a century to return everything to its proper place, can it?”

“Says the forger,” says Andy with a short laugh. That, too, echoing in the room.

“I for one can go a few decades without anyone filling me with lead.”

“Trust me, you’ll miss it after a few years,” she says, smiling. “I’m going to visit your family before we leave, you’re welcome to join me.”

“Maybe next time.”

He says that every time, but she’ll never stop asking. She goes to his family’s graves every time they are in the general area. She brings flowers, because that’s the custom in his culture, and she pays for someone to look after them during the decades they are away so the graves won’t fall into decay or other people get the slots. If she could, she would do it for Nicky and Joe too, but they, like her, have nothing left that ties them to Before.

Tonight it feels more important than ever to keep the tradition going.

“I’m too old, Booker, I should have been forgotten with the rest of them,” Andy mumbles, looking back at the altar. She barely remembers the language they had spoken, the songs they had sung, or the games they had played... “I wish I at least remembered her name.”

Booker hesitates for a moment before sliding even closer, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him.

“I’m sorry they brought your friend to a lab,” he says.

She rests her head against him and sighs deeply. That’s not really the part that upsets her the most. At least she doesn’t think so. It’s easy to lash out at that part and she stands by the fact that she thinks it’s inhumane and so fucking disrespectful, but what hurts the most is that she had forgotten about her until now. 

How many people has she forgotten over the course of her never ending life? How many friends, how many lovers? It’s painful to forget. 

Booker’s too young, he doesn’t get it yet. He’s still in pain over the ones he remembers. She won’t tell him that the pain of forgetting is worse than remembering, sometimes. He’ll figure it out in time.

Instead she nods and murmurs, “Thank you.”

There’s not much more to say.


End file.
